Devour You

70

Victoria

I remember when it all began. Not the morning of the crash, but the first time it was clear to be confirmed that I was officially working for him.

"You still participating?" He asked; the soothing sound of his husky tone was the only to hang in the air, as the two of us stood in my kitchen. He stood with a mischievous glimmer glistening behind his dark brown eyes. And I was slightly nervous.

"Yes." I answered. It wasn't too long after that, when I watched the gang leader walk away. That was the first night I ever felt an immense urge for him to turn back around.

Never did I expect the way he would get my heart to race after; hammering cruelly within me every time he made an appearance somehow.

Another memory comes like a delicate flash.

"Ms. Stone, huh?" I span around from the sound of the all too familiar husky voice that belonged to Rio. His inevitably twinkling brown eyes examined me in my scrubs as we stood in the busy hall of the Hospital.

"Rio..." I breathed - though I knew before I turned it was him. He smiled, and it the first time I caught a blissful glimpse of it.

"The one and only." I remember the sight of him in his dark blue button down shirt, glancing around my job with folded hands. "So this is where you work?"
Again, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was nervous. Around him, anyway.
But after pulling him to the side and feeling afraid that the security would spot the gangster in the halls of my job, it was then when I knew I cared about Rio profusely.

"Let them see me, darlin'." There it went again: his domineering voice laced with confidence and certainty.

And I couldn't tug away from what I started to feel.

Flashes of another time come rushing to me.

My breath was held in Rio's bedroom, as his chest gently brushed against my own; his intensifying touch sent courses of tingling energy down my back. My breath diffused onto his tempting lips from the alluring proximity. It was the first time he took me up to his bedroom, of his old place.

And his chocolate brown irises never unlatched from mine, I almost felt trapped. But it wasn't anything I wanted to escape from.

And his lips touched mine, for the very first time in our own infinite history.

It takes me to days after that irrevocable evening, when I was working another shift at the hospital. I remember pulling my sister into an embracive hug in a corridor.

"Ain't that cute, can I get one too?" Rio startled me from behind, before I span around quickly once more to see him standing there with a smug grin.

Then, I envision my hand gently sliding up the gangster's arm with a delicate touch suddenly, from another day he vestured his black t-shirt... another memory. His warm skin has always been exhilarating.

Weeks after that, came the night of walking the boulevard. It gives me puny goosebumps every time just replaying the memory in my head.

I had ventured out there to get away from him. I was angry - at him more than the surrounding world. I don't remember why exactly I was angry at him or what it was he did, but I can remember the mere crackling of my heart from our distance. But more greatly in memory: the feeling of the small weight being lifted off my chest when I saw him there, when I had realized that he had brought forth the effort to search, and found me.